


Settling

by Thalatte



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 01:44:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11243742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thalatte/pseuds/Thalatte
Summary: She dies and the demon takes her.





	Settling

**Author's Note:**

> Very very much non-con. I've tagged what immediately came to mind, but please let me know if more/more appropriate tags would be appropriate. (I mean, 'cannibalism' and 'vore' don't seem totally accurate, but they're close.) Whatever I can do to help make sure the people who don't want to read this, can easily avoid it.
> 
> And a quick apology, as I don't have another party proofread anything, so any errors are my own.

_ You were a consolation. A pact made from necessity, not desire. _

Ripley heard the whispered insults over and over. In this space between spaces where she now was, bound by spectral vines that mirrored the roots entwined within her physical body, and black smoke that filled the leftover spaces. She had quickly learned screaming was, at first, a pitiful example of her defeat, and then an act of futility. Noise was pointless in death, and it only spurred on the quiet chuckling in her head from the demon.

Orthax hated her. He hated her because she was a weak mirror of what he had truly wanted. He hissed around her and inside of her all the failings and shortcomings she was. She was smart and brutal, and he had, however briefly, considered her fondly in that regard, but she was weak. Single minded. A human whose only impact on the world was because she stepped on the backs of those greater.

The demon ate her hands first. Or tried to. There was no physical  _ her  _ anymore, but there was a memory. A memory of life, and in life she had hands. Both of them, at some point. Orthax ate her hands, and she screamed and writhed in the vines and eventually the hands returned. He ate them again. Again and again. And while he ate, he learned many things.

He learned things from her childhood. He learned of the books she read. He learned of countless unimportant steps she had taken. Eventually he flitted across memories of Percival. The moment the familiar blue eyes appeared in his mind's eye, Orthax plunged his head into Ripley’s chest, digging through the rib cage into the organs below, wanting to consume everything, wanting to force  _ these  _ thoughts,  _ this man _ , to the front. The only thing of interest to him from Ripley, was Percival.

Parts grew back. Ripley’s chest would close itself again. She never knew how long it took, but she would know Orthax would loom and force his maw into her again as she would observe her skin stitch itself back together. Perhaps she would simply let him have all that was in her head, let him see what all she had done to the de Rolo pup. Maybe he would be happy. Maybe he would leave her be.

A mistake.

Her mind blown full open in an attempt at appeasement, Orthax instead mused over how he could truly have fun with her. Ripley had done so many things to Percival. So many lovely, and yet oafishly simple in their brutality, things. She thought the boy so simple. She was delightfully good at underestimating him. Him? Which him? Orthax realized slowly, over many more crushed ribs, that Ripley had considered the boy and the demon on equal footing. Orthax, nothing more than an extension of Percival and his grasp at vengeance.

What a dull thing.

Fine then.

Organs grew back. Ripley’s fingers once again grasped and pulled at smoke and vines. Orthax’s whispers disappeared for a time.

And then Percival appeared.

Percival, but not Percival. A facsimile stretched out of her memories and into Orthax. Black eyes, black stained fingers, smoke billowing out from his form as he approached her. She snarled. Not-Percival wrapped his hands around her wrists and pinned them to the empty air, vines moving to confusedly try and grasp at something that both was and wasn’t there. He purred and bit into her throat. Ripley spasmed and tried to squirm out of his grasp. But this wasn’t her space. This was his. This was Orthax and his prison and his control. She screamed soundlessly into their shared void only to feel herself fill with smoke.

_ You took many things. Things he did not offer willingly. Not like me. He offered so much to me, and I only had to ask. _

A hand swiftly covered her mouth. Black eyes looked her in the face. Not-Percival smiling through blood soaked teeth and lips.  _ What else can I take from you? What else did you take from him? _

Ripley watched as the demon took her left hand, brought it to his face, and delicately bit into one of the fingers. She screamed and quickly quieted as she watched his long tongue glide over the wound and down to her knuckles. She tried to stop the thoughts surfacing. She desperately tried to stamp down the first night she had fucked Percival. Had tied him down, broken a few choice bones, and then rode him. How she had kept him hard for hours with learned cantrips and her own hand. Ripley grasped at the memories and felt them slip away, pulled out of her by smoke and pleased purring. So many nights of marring pale flesh and taking and warping desire.

_ Barbaric. _ Orthax sounded almost insulted.  _ But, it has been a time since I’ve resorted to such simplicity. A disappointment that Percival may well have been thinking of you when I had him. But, you seem so in want of this form, it would be such a shame not to indulge.  _ A pleased trill as Orthax pressed close, Not-Percy hands holding her down. Not-Percy hips riding against her. Not-Percy lips closing over her own, the long tongue forcing past her teeth and down her throat.

_ And maybe, he’ll be pleased to hear what I’ve done to you.  _


End file.
